A
nn
Arbor’s
tallest
building is the aptly
named
Tower
Plaza
Condominium.
Standing
at around 300 feet tall, the
building
was
controversial
from its first proposal. City
Council moved rapidly to enact
an 18-story height limit, but
Tower Plaza came in right under
the wire before that ordinance
change was passed. The first
time Ann Arbor opposed a
tower for being “too tall” was
in 1929. The original proposal
for
the
beautiful
Spanish
Renaissance-style Forest Plaza,
at 715 South Forest Avenue,
was nine stories tall, but the
city bargained them down to
five stories. The controversies
haven’t stopped since. Ann
Arbor’s
latest
downtown
building controversy was 413
East Huron, known as Foundry
Lofts. Dubbed “overpowering”
and “imposing” by some, the
plan nearly failed to pass
the council. Now, 512 Ann
Arbor residents call it their
downtown home.
Ann
Arbor’s
“high-rises”
have made our city a better
place to live. They’ve added
new housing supply, supported
sustainable growth and made
our city the place it is today.
Ann
Arbor’s
21st
century
high-rises can be attributed
to a 2009 zoning ordinance
change. When the special tax
rules that govern downtown
were
renewed,
residents
expressed their desire for a
more vibrant downtown. The
resulting plan, named Ann
Arbor Discovering Downtown,
created our downtown zoning
codes. A2D2 gave developers
a
“premium”
option
for
their developments — more
residential
space
downtown
was a major ask during public
input. In exchange for building
residential
floor
space,
developers received the rights
for more height and density.
This
“residential
premium”
was used to construct more
than a dozen buildings in the
new downtown zoning district.
In 2019, elected officials
altered
downtown
zoning.
Instead of offering the right to
more floor space in exchange
for residential space, the city
began asking developers to
construct subsidized housing.
This dealt a major blow to
development in the city core.
This premium process is
called
inclusionary
zoning.
Inclusionary zoning seems to
be a free solution to affordable
housing woes, and is meant
as a response to exclusionary
zoning, which is the design of
zoning laws to restrict access
to a neighborhood. The Biden
administration
has
taken
strides to combat this pervasive
phenomenon.
Unfortunately,
as we can see in Ann Arbor,
inclusionary
zoning
is
not
really working as advertised.
In
an
interview
with
The Michigan Daily, Emily
Hamilton,
Senior
Research
Fellow and Director of the
Urbanity
Project
at
the
Mercatus Center, at George
Mason
University,
which
researches
how
markets
can
solve
social
problems,
explained
that,
because
these programs are typically
designed with a density bonus
to offset the cost of subsidizing
some of the units, “inclusionary
zoning
always
depends
on
exclusionary zoning existing …
to work.”
Hamilton
said
that,
in
her research of inclusionary
zoning
programs
in
the
Baltimore-Washington region,
very few have produced any
affordable units. She said that
Ann Arbor’s program is an
optional program, in contrast
to a mandatory program, which
would not come with any
bonuses.
“Out
of
eleven
optional
programs,
only
two
have
provided any units,” Hamilton
said.
“And
those
two
programs are in otherwise
very exclusionary, expensive,
supply-constrained localities.”
Some
research
on
inclusionary
zoning
has
even shown that the tool can
backfire.
Hamilton
confirmed
that
reality,
describing
that
in
her research of mandatory
inclusionary zoning programs
“actually increased the median
house price among localities
that adopted (those) programs
relative to what they could
have expected otherwise.”
A slew of recent planned
unit developments, known as
PUDs, are a major sign that
poorly
designed
regulations
are the issue here, not just
macroeconomic
factors.
A
PUD allows a developer to
receive
custom
zoning
in
exchange for public benefits.
Two projects, at 721 South
Forest Avenue and 732 Packard
Street, are of a similar mass
and scale as the dozen recent
towers
downtown,
but
are
pursuing PUDs for relief, even
offering money for Ann Arbor’s
affordable housing fund. Ann
Arbor’s planning commission is
aware of the system’s failings,
recently requesting consultants
to review the ordinances. The
report confirmed that, just
like developers, city staff and
volunteer commissioners alike
all believe the system to be
ineffective — and the numbers
are
there
to
support
this
conclusion.
O
n
more
than
one
occasion, I have been
shocked to find that two
people who I never expected to
know one another actually did.
I discovered that my friend from
my dorm has known my friend
from math class since orientation.
A
boy
in
my
professional
fraternity apparently sails with
someone who lives right down
the hall from me. A kid I went to
high school with ended up being
good friends with my next-door
neighbor. Time and time again,
I was shown how interlinked our
campus community really is and
how often we seem to overlook
our connections.
With
more
than
30,000
undergraduates at the University
of Michigan, it’s easy to feel
like a small fish in a big pond.
There are only so many friends
you can make, organizations
you can join or classes you can
enroll in — naturally you’re not
going to know everyone. But just
because you don’t know every
student passing you in the Diag
or the names of everyone in
your classes doesn’t mean that
you are somehow disconnected
or detached from the people
around you. We are all more
interconnected than we presume,
something
I
feel
is
better
recognized when considering the
concept of degrees of separation.
I have long been fascinated
by the six degrees of separation:
The theory that any two people
in the world can be connected
through no more than six social
connections.
The
idea
that
someone living around the globe
and I are connected by less than
six people is not only mind-
blowing, but also demonstrates
that the world is not as divided as
some like to believe. This concept
is only amplified in a campus
environment. A recent study
from Cornell University which
researched course enrollments
showed that any two students can
be connected in three steps or
less. This result doesn’t even take
into account the connections that
can be found through friends,
extracurricular activities, living
situations and parties.
To transfer this idea onto our
own school, the University of
Michigan has what I’d like to
call “Michigan’s Two Degrees
of Separation.” What I mean
by this is that any two people
at the University of Michigan
are likely two or fewer social
connections away from each
other without even realizing it.
Now, of course, this notion might
seem far-fetched, but the harder
you think the more it starts to
make sense. The average U-M
student takes about 15 credit
hours per semester, which comes
out to about four or five courses.
That means that each of us is
taking classes with hundreds
of other students each week —
students who also take classes
with hundreds of other people.
To add on to that, we have over
1,600 student-run organizations
made up of students from all
different years and backgrounds
coming into contact with one
another. Add all of that together
with friend groups, dorm living
and any of the other spontaneous
ways
college
students
meet
on campus, and the result is a
complex web of social interaction
that connects the University of
Michigan together.
To
fully
grasp
how
interconnected our community
is we need to dig deeper than
just the way the University is
structured. We need to think
critically about what unites all of
us as U-M students. Sure, we all
love football games and are eager
to take a selfie with Santa Ono,
but we, as Michigan Wolverines,
have a distinct spirit that joins us
together beyond the fact that we
think it is great to be a Michigan
Wolverine. Regardless of our
backgrounds, in-state or out-
of-state, STEM or humanities
students, Greek life-enjoyers or
Greek life-avoiders, what unites
us and connects us is that desire
we all have to be a part of this
community,
no
matter
what
shape that may take.
That is what makes Michigan’s
two degrees of separation what it
is. Of course we can attribute our
connectedness to the classes we
take and the organizations we
participate in, but it is ultimately
our own attempts to participate
in our college community that
breathes life into this web of
connection.
Whatever
your
background
or
role
at
the
University of Michigan, who
your friends are or what you are
trying to do here, all of us are
compelled to be here and to grow
here in some way. That is what
makes us interconnected.
But why just stop at the
University of Michigan? Any
college
whose
students
are
passionate
about
cultivating
an interconnected community
should experience the degrees
of
separation
phenomenon.
Academic spaces, particularly
universities,
provide
unparalleled
opportunities
for growth and discovery, and
it is truly up to the students
themselves
to
decide
how
connected they can be.
The bottom line is that even
when you might feel like you’re
totally separated or disconnected
from the people around you, I
promise that you are undoubtedly
more connected to them than
you realize. That person sitting
next to you in lecture or the guy
in front of you in the line for Joe’s
Pizza might seem distant, but I
promise if you take the time to
think hard enough about it you’ll
see how connected we all truly
are.
T
he Apple AirPods Max
are ugly. Or, at least that’s
what my last-semester self
thought.
As of two weeks ago, though,
I own a pair of AirPods Max,
and I must say, I’ve been using
them quite a lot. They have been
nothing short of excellent. The
noise-canceling
feature
quite
literally tunes you out from
the raucous sounds that may
surround you when trying to
get work done in popular study
spots across campus, and they’re
surprisingly comfortable as well.
If you’re debating whether to
get a pair for yourself, this is me
expressing my fervent support of
the purchase.
However, despite my positive
experience with the AirPods Max,
it is undeniable that there are
several other brands that produce
high-quality
noise-canceling
headphones as well. From the
Sony WH-1000XM5 to the Bose
QuietComfort 45, headphones at
half the price of the AirPods Max
can be found on the market.
To be completely honest, I was
simply looking for a solid pair of
noise-canceling headphones that
would get the job done. But as I
browsed the choices available at
my nearest Best Buy, I couldn’t
help but be drawn to the AirPods
Max. Why was I so allured by
them, knowing that they were
the most expensive option? Why
did I insist that they looked
better on me than any of the
other pairs of headphones at the
store when, let’s be honest, no
pair of headphones, regardless
of the brand, is ever going to
be
the
cutest
accessory
for
embellishing an outfit? It turns
out that the reason we feel drawn
to purchase brand-name products
is
inherently
psychological,
and while investing in certain
designer products is, at times,
worth the money because of
their durability, others just aren’t
worth paying such high prices.
Designer brands have expertly
championed the art of hooking
their
customers’
attention
through their unique “statement”
brand names. These brands know
that, in order to leave their mark,
they must label themselves with
a simple yet eye-catching title
and aesthetic. The title is thus
paired with quality products that
adhere to a certain specialty and
aesthetic. Take the expensive,
albeit popular, sneaker brand,
Golden Goose. The price for
Golden Goose sneakers ranges
from around $350 to over $2,000.
Some would deem this price range
ridiculous, given that the brand’s
shoes have a distressed and used
look, so they barely look worth
the expensive price tag they bear.
Some have gone as far as to
claim that they fall under the
controversial
“poverty
chic”
trend,
which
romanticizes
the idea of resorting to what
is
considered
low-class
for
fashion inspiration. As Kimberly
Chrisman-Campbell
presents
in her 2017 essay for Politico
Magazine, times of increasing
income inequality result in a
twisted high society desire to
cosplay poverty.
Curiously, it is precisely the
bizarre, distressed look of Golden
Goose sneakers that the brand
aims to market and that customers,
as a result, covet. In an interview
with ELLE Magazine, Golden
Goose
CEO
Silvio
Campara
explained that “what (they’ve)
tried to do, and tried to say (with
the brand), is that everyone may
have their own reason for why
the shoes are the way they are.
They are meant to be part of life,
and life is not glossy.” The brand
advertises itself as a reflection
of life’s tough realities, which,
according to Campara, makes the
brand “relatable” because it isn’t
“polished and perfect.” Basically,
instead of having to break your
shoes in until they fit your exact
foot size like every other person,
Golden Goose does it for you, and
that is the advertised reason why
they are worth investing in.
The phenomenon described
above is rightfully known as
emotional branding. In attempts
to
foster
consumer
loyalty,
brands follow a series of steps
that help them develop a positive
reputation as a company. As
explained in a 2019 study by Youn-
Kyung Kim and Pauline Sullivan,
brands explore market trends that
have contributed to consumer
happiness in the past, and then
propose
distinct
emotional
branding strategies that respond
to the trends evaluated. Emotional
branding is eventually coupled
with emotional marketing, which
aims to target human emotions
in order to catch customers’
attention. In the end, this is
what makes designer products
appealing to consumers because
we will ultimately buy products
that we believe we can trust.
This does not eliminate the fact
that designer products are high
quality. My mom and grandma
are constantly expressing their
utmost elation at the fact that,
someday, I’ll be able to inherit
their
favorite
Louis
Vuitton
handbag and their beloved David
Yurman necklace because the
quality of these products is just
that good. But even if the quality
of these products is excellent,
buying
goods
produced
by
designer
brands
is
certainly
an investment. And while the
Louis Vuitton purse that will
last you a lifetime is probably
worth investing in if you have
the economic resources to do so,
perhaps a bottle of expensive Dior
perfume isn’t as worth it, given
that it runs out in due time.
Take the example of winter
parkas. Insulated winter jackets
produced by brands such as
Canada Goose and The North
Face are lauded for their high-
quality material and fit, which
makes them more durable than
those generally sold at retail
stores. But the winter parka you
decide to purchase really depends
on how you plan to use it, as
Jordan Wand, vice president of
production and marketing for
Outdoor Research, explains in an
interview with ABC News.
However, the societal need to
keep up has convinced us that,
in order to fit in, we must rep
the Canada Goose parka priced
at over $1,000, even if we will
really only use it for the duration
of our four years of college. This
phenomenon is especially true if
you’re originally from a warm-
temperature region that you plan
to return to after college, which
is, in fact, my exact situation. It is
this type of societal and emotional
manipulation that often leads us
to invest in designer products
without considering what we will
use them for in the long run.
In the end, your money is
your money, and you can use it
to purchase whatever you want
to purchase. But before spending
large sums of your paycheck on
a bottle of Dior perfume that
will inevitably run out or on a
pair of Gucci jeans that you may
eventually grow out of, think
about the long-lasting effects of
your purchase, whether these
implicate outgrowing the product
you purchased or contributing to
a conflicting societal expectation
that comes with investing in
designer goods. If, by then, you’re
still drawn to a designer product,
opt for the durable Louis Vuitton
handbag instead.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
9 — Wednesday, March 22, 2023
GRACIELA BATLLE CESTERO
Opinion Columnist
Design by Leah Hoogterp
“Branding” is the name of the game
Ann Arbor needs skyscrapers
Michigan’s two degrees of separation:
We are more connected than you realize
MAX FELDMAN
Opinion Columnist
ABDULRAHMAN ATEYA
Opinion Columnist
Read more at MichiganDaily.com